L is for Lost
by See More Glasses
Summary: The police listened to him, the people whispered about him, L was a name of great respect. Before L was ensnared in the web of the death note this is the case that took him from well respected detective to an unkillable Legend. The case of the Wolf's Bane
1. Prologue

The computer terminal blinked monotonously in the darkened room which also blinked simultaneously with the dim light of the terminal. A TV was turned on some where, a black and white program prattling on about love.

_Love_ the small child wondered as he stood in the middle of the room, _Love?_

Around the child was chaos. Chairs broken, tables overturned, and blood…blood was spotted across the room like it was some bizarre fashion statement. The room was in an anarchic storm, and the boy with the black hair was the eye.

_No_, the child thought to himself. No, there was no love. Love was for fantasies. Love was a conjured up emotion for us to hopefully try and cope with the every day harshness of reality.

"Love…" He muttered as he approached the blinking terminal. In front of the terminal was a man, also with black hair, lying face down, with his head turned, like he was sneaking a nap at the office.

Blood trickled down the sides of the man's mouth.

The boy placed one hand on the back of the man's head in some form of compassion? Love? …he doubted it. Gratefulness seemed more appropriate.

The pale highlighted flesh of his hand touched the blinking computer screen. His drooping tired eyes stared in small wonder at his future, at who he knew he had to become.

On the computer screen blinked one letter plastered onto static. It was the one letter that would define his life.

**L.**

#---

This is my story about L and an important case he took on before he met Raito and was involved in the death note scandal.


	2. L is for Landing

**L**, for love.

**L, **for life.

**L…** for Lemon!

The teenager thought contently in front of the terminal as he shoved the sucker in his mouth. The whole world, he pondered, was obsessed with L right now.

He was the newest fad. The new great mystery of the world.

"Who is this L, who has now solved the case of the Tokyo Train Bomber. Richard Picrad, renowned American killer and escaped convict, is now deported and back in the hands of who he belongs." The reporter on TV announced.

L reached up to the terminal and turned it off. Ego stroking, it was pointless to watch, and time wasting.

In the deep black that was there after he shut off the terminal, like all life he supposed left the darkness when it left, was his reflection. His skin was pale, his eyes were red and painted with purple lines of sleepless nights, and his hair was a mess.

"No award for my looks…" He muttered.

"L!" The radio crackled to life, "L, we think we have another case for you."

L picked up the radio. Yes, another case, another way to do justice.

"Shoot, Watari."

"Well, it's kind of an old case, L."

L looked at his computer terminal in thoughtfulness. Words and images from around the world constantly popped up and receded like the tides of knowledge in the ocean of information that was the internet.

"No, no old cases. My time is better spent stopping those that are going to do harm and save future lives than worry about closing cold cases. Justice is alive and moving, Watari, we have to keep up."

There was silence over the radio, only the cackle of that dreadful static could be heard, "L…" The old voice finally broke it, "This one's about your father."

#---

_The child doesn't sleep, it wastes too much time; time that could be spent on showing his gratification to his father. His energy falls drastically he finds. He loses weight, more than he should; to compensate for this he constantly supplies his body with the energy contained in sweets. _

_His eyes burn as he sat in the seat in front of the terminal. The room around him was still in a mess. The body of his father was gone, though, the investigators had come and taken it. _

_No matter how much he looked, he couldn't find the answers. There was no trace to follow, no trail. Of the suspects that were chosen by the police were full of speculation; there was no reason involved, only the desperate attempt to cover up their failure. _

_The door opened behind him, the child turned, a chocolate bar hanging from his mouth. _

_The man stood in the silhouette that was the conflict zone between the darkness of the room and the light of the world outside._

"_It's time to go, Lawliette." He said. _

_The child stood from the terminal reluctantly. He knew the time he spent in this room was borrowed time, "Yeah, you're right. Let's go, Watari." _

_The child stepped into the silhouette zone, that zone of facade darkness that was just where the men from the night couldn't see the men from the light. Then both man and child left into the brightness of the outside world._

#---

L stared outside of the plane's window, his finger brushing over the images of land beneath him.

His father? After all this time who could find the lead? If he couldn't…

L shook his head. He couldn't relish in the memories of the past. A new clue had been found in the case of his father…maybe,

_Maybe. Nothing conclusive. Emotions are useless, and hope the most useless one of them all._

And so it was on the maybe of finally closing his father's death that L found himself touching down in the place of his birth…

The United Kingdom.


	3. L is for Luck

(Thank you for the reviews. Yeah, I'm a big fan of death note, so here's to hoping I can keep the story interesting and cohesive like the real author could.)

#---

L sat in the darkened room of the Wammy house, the orphanage in Great Britain which had raised him, secluded away from the children and their ever curious eyes. He had a phone cocked to his ear and was dialing a set of numbers given to him by Watari.

"Hello?" The female voice said.

"Naomi Misora, This is L." L said. Although it is just an opening statement, a lot can be determined about a person's character by merely presenting them with information they did not deem probable in their realities.

There was a brief pause over the phone before the FBI Agent spoke again, "L? I suppose you're calling about the Wolf's Bane murders?"

A small smile crept to L's lips; this one was sharp and straight to the point. This was going to be easy, "Yes I am. I need all the information that you have on the case."

….

It was an hour later that L had ended the conversation with "please keep this a secret" and sat in silent contemplation in the back room of the Wammy house, his thumb caught firmly against his teeth as if he was going to bite it off. And he just might, with how hard his mind was working.

Aconite, otherwise known as the Wolf's Bane, was a deadly poison. Once delivered to the target, it took a few minutes for it to run through the body, giving almost no chance for a vaccine unless it was handy. Then, after those seconds were up, the heart would literally start pumping too much blood for the veins to hold. Then, the blood would simply leak out from any hole it could find.

Not only was it deadly but it was also rare, so rare in fact that L wasn't exactly sure how to start on the case. Normally for poison murders he'd narrow down the list of suppliers, then from there he would get the clients of aforementioned poison, and then he'd compare the murders to the personality traits of those who had bought the poison to find the killer. Easy.

But here…

Then it donned on him. It donned on him like a bag of bricks. This, he thought, had a high probability of being a fairly easy case thanks to a large dose of luck. Richard Picrad, an American killer who had been on the loose in Japan, had bought a large portion of his poison from a man in Great Britain. Picrad had never used Aconite, as far as L knew, but all he needed was information.

He dialed up Watari, "Please inquire on the streets about purchasing a large portion of poison. Be sure to emphasize money is not an option."

"Do you want me to act like a thug?"

"No, just do the normal mysterious and faceless routine."

"Very good, just out of curiosity, why did you choose to go through one FBI agent instead of the agency?"

"Although it's not a global case and not very publicized if I let it be known I'm on the case, and the right person started looking into it, they could, with luck, determine a connection with the current murders to previous ones and from there discover my identity."

"That's quite a stretch, the chances of that are astronomical."

"But not zero."

With that they hung up the phone.

L's head began to hurt. It was a sign; when his head hurt, he needed to digest more sugar to stay off the mind cramps from his body being abused for so many years. So he made his way into the kitchen.

After he was done in the kitchen he left to return to his room with one hand full of a mint-chocolate chip ice cream box and another hand firmly grasping a spoon when he heard the voice,

"You're L, aren't you?"

It was a child's voice. Quickly altering his reality to fit this new situation L turned to see a boy's face plagued by shadows. It was hard to make it out, but L would guess the hair that the boy's hand was slowly twirling was blonde.

"How can you say that?"

"Well, us orphans know that L grew up here. Judging by how quickly he solves cases and how many cases he solves it's safe to assume he doesn't get much sleep. Also, since no one ever sees him, he probably doesn't care too much about his appearance. Since you fit all of these descriptions, you are L." The child ended his little speech with a content smile spreading to his lips. One, L noted, that wasn't too different from his own when he believes he had solved the case and won the little game.

L wasn't sure if he should be offended or impressed at the comments. So, naturally, he was neither, "Someone else could fit this description. Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"Well, I don't know of him, but I know of you, so you must be him."

L opened up the ice cream and shoved a spoonful into his mouth. Almost instantly the fog that had been wrapped around his head, straining it to the point where his head felt like it was going to explode vanished.

"Just because you don't know of another who fits that description doesn't mean he's not out there. Reality is larger than just your perception."

" No, you're wrong," The boy said, his fingers stopping in mid-twirl, "Reality is only what I see."

"Reality to you. But when you make conclusions like that you affect other people's realities too. Even if you know for sure that you are right, without proper evidence, you're wrong."

L turned to go back to his seclusion and his thoughts.

"So, are you L?" The boy called after him.

L stopped, shoving another spoonful of ice cream in his lips, "If you find the evidence, I'll tell you."

The shadows caressing the boy adjusted to the child's face as it changed into a smile. L knew right then the challenge had been accepted. This, he figured, would at least be interesting. A little diversion can help the mind think.

#---

The darkness outside was dimming and a strange orangish variation of twilight had appeared before Watari had called. He had good timing, too, for L had just finished slurping out the melted contents of his second box of ice cream for the night.

"They want to meet the buyer at Warehouse 3 on Churchill docks before the sun completely rises." Watari began.

"Did you emphasize a lot of money?"

"Yes. Do you want me to go and acquire into this … Wolf's Bane?"

"No, I'm going this time Watari."

"Alright then, I think I'm going to come back and check up on Roger, the children can give him such a handful."

Even though it was a secure line L hated it when Watari used names. He was a great man, and L owed him his life, but sometimes the man placed too much trust on secure lines and technology.

After they had hung up L placed one more call before preparing for his big welcome back debut in Great Britain. After that he was out the door and heading towards Warehouse 3.


	4. L is for Laughter

(I always get nervous every time I write a part to a new story. When I don't, I tend to not care and stop writing. Thanks for letting me know you're reading reviewers; it keeps me a little more honest. On a different note, can anyone tell me how old Near and Mello were in the manga, after the 3 year time skip?)

(List of British slang in this chapter)

(Dago- Outsider)

(Aresholed- Drunk)

(daftie- Idiot)

(dead above the neck- Idiot)

(dab- sweat)

#---

The veil of twilight outside was being pierced by the first rays of morning light when the door to the warehouse opened. A figure in a dark cloak, bent, came staggering into the darkened area. The cloak coated his bones, revealing a figure that was best fit for an elderly man on his death bed.

A single light flickered above a table in the center of the warehouse. On the table was a silver suitcase, similar to that of which the black cloaked figure himself held. The only other light in the old place was from the right side of the warehouse where a single ray from the day outside pierced the darkness through a worn hole.

L looked up from beneath the cloak as the door shut tightly behind him. In the seconds that the door was opened he quickly noticed not one, not two, but three men scattered about the corners of the large room. The darkness was still thick then, so there could be more.

One of the figures, now unseen in the darkness, quickly snatched the briefcase out of L's hands.

Then another figure stepped from behind the shadows cover to the not so revealing light of the single bulb hanging above the table. He had brown hair, an aged, weathered face and when he smiled his teeth were yellow enough to fight the sun for superiority, "Now you've lost your only bloody chance at getting out of here alive." He had a thick, British accent.

L, too, walked into the light, "Open the briefcase."

The man walked into the darkness and returned with it in his hand. Then he did so and he found himself staring amusedly into an empty case, "Now you've really done it, ol' chap, without money you'll never get out of here. Let's kill this dago, he's dead from the neck up."

"The money," L began, taking his hand and allowing one finger to tap his skull beneath the cloak, "Is in here."

The British gentleman laughed and sat down at the single table, and motioned to the chair across from him for L to join him.

"If you don't mind, I'll stand."

The man laughed again; it was a harsher laugh, a laugh underlayed with tremendous amounts of frustration. L marked him in his mind as a bomb with a short fuse.

"What the bloody hell do you mean you'll stand? If you want your poison, you'll sit."

"I don't trust you yet. If I sit, you could very easily, after I tell you how to get the money, dispose of me and keep both the money and the poison."

Yellow teeth sat forward, an odd cold spark behind his eyes. The fuse was lit, the man was going to blow, and soon.

"If you don't sit, my men will shoot you."

Sitting would increase his chance at death, so it would be best to get the man on a different track than his power hungry "do as I say" trip, "8792360" L said.

"What?"

"8792360 is my bank code."

The laughter this time barked to every crevice in the expansive warehouse, "We have the code, so shoot this bloody daftie!"

"You don't know where the code goes, and, in reality, I very well could have lied."

"Men, hold your fire!" Yellow teeth clasped his hands beneath his chin; the cold spark behind his eyes had morphed into an absolute freezing inferno, "You're good, and I don't like it. Fine, you want to do business, let's do business dago. How much are you willing to put up?"

This was the trick question. Test one had been passed, but this could very well be test 2, 3, 4, and 5. If he said too much, he would be instantly shot dead under suspicion of being undercover; if it was too little he'd be sent away with a dead case.

Seeing if he chose a number it was 50 percent it was too much and 50 percent too little there was a 100 percent chance he'd lose. Not deciding was the best option here, "Once I observe the quality of your product then we can discuss price."

The blazing inferno cooled and the man genuinely smiled…maybe. It was hard to tell the difference between the two in someone who was most likely psychotic, as most poison dealers probably were. The man opened up the case, "So what's your poison dago?"

Ignoring the various liquids in the case, L spoke to the British man, "I'm looking for Aconite."

That was like taking a match to a wick because the man's posture stiffened and his eyes darted to two sides of the room, probably where his men were stationed, "Look at this," His black eyes were wide and wiled, "You've done and made me dab. Sorry dago, but because you had to be bloody aresholed and come and ask about Aconite you have to die. My boss can't take any chances, see?"

Two men emerged from the shadows, each of them holding a small, black pistol.

"Shoot the bloke."

Two shots rang out through the warehouse. L watched, fascinated, as he was finally able to experience death firsthand.

#---

_Naomi Misora had been going over the files at the US embassy in Great Britain when she had received the call from L. He_ _had asked her to immediately go to Warehouse three on Churchill docks and create a means to watch from the inside from the outside. A man in a black cloak was going to arrive, and when he did, to watch over him until he was in mortal danger, and then act on his behalf._

_Although the instructions were vague she did go down to the warehouse. Only a few minutes after she shot a hole into the side of the warehouse with a bullet and widened it with another, three men pulled up in a car. _

_When the black cloaked man had arrived she watched until the two men held the black cloaked figure at gun point. From there she squeezed the gun into the hole next to her eye, aimed, and fired._

#--

The two men dropped to the floor, a penny sized hole appearing in their heads. Their guns clattered to the ground and disappeared into the darkness.

Yellow Teeth was beginning to panic. His hands were shaking, his eyes were darting, and sweat covered his brow.

He pushed himself away from the table and scrambled backwards out of the chair, "Wh-who are you!?" He cried.

_The fuse is almost out._

Yellow Teeth's hand shot to his wrist and pressed something on his wrist watch. A red light blinked twice and then went off.

The warehouse door shot open and Naomi Misora, who was turning into a very reliable person, came running into the area, holding the man at gunpoint.

The man laughed again, this time there was no underlying insanity in its laugh; it was clear for both L and Misora to hear.

_Boom._

The man stood up and charged at the two, his eyes wild, his mouth curled back to reveal the black gums attached to those horrible teeth. It was a face L would mark in his mind forever, the face of one who had the most potential for injustice.

The hands were but inches from in front of L's cloaked face before they stopped abruptly, blood coating them.

Naomi holstered her smoking gun.

The man collapsed to the floor.

"That was most helpful, thank you."

She ignored his thanks, "I'm going to assume you're either L, or working for him. So either way, let him know that he can't do this case alone. It's too dangerous." Her voice was a voice full of determination.

"Although you're smart, and useful, people only get in my way. They get so set on what they think is right that they refuse to listen to all my reasoning."

"Is that what you do, but you just refuse the voice of others?"

L looked at her from beneath the cloak, curious. Her black hair and face was from Asian decent, and her eyes were marked with premature wrinkles, a contradiction to her smooth face, as if she always held that determined look that she had right now, "Yes, it is. But unlike them, I listen to my reasoning. I suppose you recorded the number I called you on?"

"Yes." That look was still there.

"Call that number if something else develops in the case. You can do what you want with these guys, I don't care, they can't be punished now. Stay on your toes. Chances say I might need you again."

With that L walked out the warehouse door, leaving a more than likely stunned Misora behind.

#---

"_My boss can't take any chances, see?"_ Yellow Teeth had said.

L thought how lucky he was as he shoved another handful of M&M's into his mouth. It turns out the poison dealer was a subordinate to the Wolf's Bane murderer. Now, where to take it…

His cell phone rang. On it was Misora's number, he answered.

"_L?"_ A male voice asked.

"Yes."

"_You killed one of my men today, and now, I kill one of yours."_


	5. L is for Losing

(Wow, they were older than I thought they were. Thanks.)

(Heh, L said that? I must've forgotten that. Just use your imagination and pretend he either didn't say that, it was a translation error, or he had a blow to the head and had forgotten all about it…or maybe sweets make you forget things.)

#---

The snarled lips of Yellow Teeth flashed briefly through L's mind. He saw the man's hands reach for his watch and press a button. A red light blinked twice and then went off.

_I figured that went to his "boss"._ But figuring something out and preventing the consequences of those said actions are two very different things. L hadn't figured it out how to make preventative measures soon enough.

"Please don't."

"_Don't kill? What, you can't handle the loss?"_ The voice had an inlayed sneer reminiscent of the harshness behind Yellow Teeth's laugh.

"Well, I don't know. I've never had someone die that was working for me, but I doubt it would feel pleasant."

"_Well then, here's what I want you to do, first-" _

"I said it wouldn't feel pleasant if you killed her. I won't jeopardize this case for her life, though. One life who knew what could happen compared to countless who will die if you keep murdering; it is a pretty logical choice." Truth be told, L felt that if Naomi Misora died, he would be losing. Something about losing meant admitting superiority to the winner, something L just couldn't bring himself to do.

The man laughed again; it was a pleasant laugh. Like bridges connecting thoughts in his head L knew instantly that this man was not of the same breed as the poison dealer. This man was genuinely enjoying this, "_Who said anything about her?"_

The phone beeped twice, another call was coming in.

"_Go ahead, I'll let you get that."_

L pressed the button that switched lines,

"L!" It was Naomi's voice, it sounded frantic, "L, sorry…I was walking back to my car from the warehouse when someone swiped the phone right out of my hands! I finally caught the Bastard but when I searched him my phone wasn't on him. Sorry L, that phone had your number in it."

So Naomi was safe. L reached into his bag of M&M's and popped another into his mouth like a pill popper. It was something to keep his mind working, to keep him functioning.

_If it isn't Naomi_ L thought to himself, using his mind to conquer the panic in his heart. _It must be Watari._

He called the old man on the intercom inside the Wammy house.

"No Brandon, everything is fine here. No one I've seen has been outside the grounds."

Brandon was the name L had chosen for Watari to call him inside the orphanage. You can never be careful with such a curious breed of children around. L reached into the bag of candy again, "Well, did anyone follow you to the mansion when you returned?"

"Not that I saw. But if they're good enough, I wouldn't have seen."

Watari was right about that. It was another possibility for this Wolf's Bane murderer to hit closer to L's home than he would have liked.

He picked up the phone and hit the button to switch lines again, "Go ahead and kill them." There was a 40 percent chance the man was bluffing. Either way, if he was or wasn't, L had to find out now, if he allowed the "bluff" to loom over his head the killer could use that as leverage the rest of the time.

"_I thought you might say that." _The phone clicked off leaving only a monotonous droning ring tone.

The intercom buzzed to life again, Watari was nearly screaming into the intercom. Only one thing could make that man so upset… "L-Brandon, something has happened, it's one of the children!"

#---

L stood over a child lying in his bed. He looked like a doll in some kind of perverted wax museum with his crew cut brown hair and blank eyes. Those eyes were wide and open, his skin was paling and blood leaked from both eyes and from the side of his mouth.

The bed was surrounded by children looking on with curious eyes at the death of one they knew.

"Children, you have to get out." Watari said, staring solemnly at the bed.

"If any body can handle death…we can." That blonde haired kid said, twirling his hair, staring at his dead companion with a blank expression to equal that poor kid's.

The phone on the wall rang, breaking the silence with a cannon explosion, sending the pieces of the glass silence to rain down inside the solemn walls of their minds.

L walked over to the phone and picked it up,

"_So, are you_ _ready to talk business now?"_

The game had begun, and L was already losing.


	6. L is for Lawless

(They're not British slang? Oops. I picked them up off of a British slang website, so I can't say I verified them. Thanks for the heads up, and thanks for the vote of confidence from the reviewers.)

_#---_

"_This deal starts with doing exactly as I say_."

L stared at the wall, his mind too occupied to realize what he was looking at. His thumb was stuck between his teeth like one of his precious sweets.

There were too many questions to answer. Why was this man calling him? Why did he want to "make a deal"? It would have been just as simple to ignore L all together; and if the killer knew he was in town why didn't the killer leave or just kill L himself? He proved already he could have gotten to him. Too many questions…

"Ok."

A sudden pain flared in his hand and snapped his mind back from its world of thoughts. He removed his thumb from his mouth…it was bleeding.

#---

Naomi Misora cautiously crept up the devious path that snaked its way up to the small hut. A sign in the front of this vast lawn read **_Gashere Monestary_** in a dull brown.

She had received the call about three hours before from L telling her to come here. _"And ask about Aconite_" he had said.

So here she was.

As she approached the straw hut at the top of this walkway she noticed the door was cracked.

Slipping her hand in the opening she slowly stepped in, her gun outstretched.

"Ho Ho" A sandy voice croaked.

She turned to stare down an old monk dressed in a brown robe across the barrel of her gun. He brought a cup up to his mouth.

"Do have a seat."

She stuck the gun into her belt but hesitated to sit down. The serene tone of the old man and the nature of her visit made something settle in her stomach like rotten tuna.

"Oh, don't worry," The old man waved at her, "Violence isn't welcomed here. Tea?"

She shook her head.

"I understand. I guess I wouldn't want to drink anything in a place that carries such horrible poisons." He laughed to himself, the smile bringing many youthful lines to his otherwise aging face.

"So you do have Aconite?"

"That's why my apprentice sent you here."

The old man stood up, the light slanting across the room from the slits in the wall reflecting off the monk's bald head.

"Well, follow me, let me show you."

…

The floor in the ground behind the hut opened up like a secret room beneath a carpeted house. It led down into an earthy basement with roots from the plants above entangling in the ceiling.

As Naomi descended from the light into the darkness the rotten tuna in her stomach turned into an all out flu; a wave of nausea swept through her body threatening to take her under.

"You seem to be taking a serious situation light. They could arrest you for just carrying this stuff." She forced out.

That awful mirthful laugh bellowed from the monk and the sounds echoed seemingly perpetually back and forth between the walls of the cavern. It faded like the doctored echoes of the villains in the movies.

"Arrest us? _They are us."_

#---

The backroom of the Wammy house was lightless except for a single computer screen. In the florescent glow many assorted wrappers and packages of many varieties of candy cluttered the area.

L was leaning over a vial of red liquid given to him by Misora through Watari. The phone was cocked between his head and the tip of his knee and a sucker dangled from his mouth like a cigarette.

_It might as well be. All these sweets have to be getting to my body._

"All right," Naomi Misora said on the other line, "The transfer is complete."

"Ok."

"L, should I go back to the monastery and arrest the monk now?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It would cause more harm than good. I'll give you a call when it's clear."

And that was the truth. He couldn't make any move that wasn't guided by the killer's hands until he minimized the chance of casualties.

"All right," Misora said, "Just be careful. I think that monk told me that the authorities let him hold on to that poison. Something isn't right." She hung up.

A single sliver of light broke through the room as the door opened. Watari stuck his head through the crack, "L, all the kids are ready. Is it really necessary to have half of the kids _hike_ to the airport?"

"Half through the front by car with roger, half with you out the back. There's less danger and less of a chance for casualties."

"You can't honestly suspect one of the children?"

"Not really, but I don't trust them enough to give them the benefit of the doubt. Remember to signal me when they all have gotten on the plane."

With that Watari left.

A few minutes later L found himself sitting in an empty house in front of that fluorescent glow sucking on a sucker listening to the conversation between Naomi Misora and the Gashere Monk.


	7. L is for Learning

(Rising to the tops in favorites? That sort of praise is bound to make me lackadaisical when I write, so you'll have to watch that; I'll try to fight it off, though. Thanks for the reviews and here's a shout out to Furubafun24 who was my first, and most consistent, reviewer)

#---

The luscious greens of the forest went unappreciated in the burn of the blonde haired boy's…Near's, eyes. Sweat dripped into his pupils from his brow, his legs ached with each move and his body craved air from lack of any real physical use for so long.

His feet, which were being dragged along the ground for movement, caught themselves on a log and his body went down like an axed tree to the wooden floor.

"Timber!" A voice from behind called. It was filled with a vicious childhood glee reminiscent of the hidden beast in every man's heart, "I guess you can't be number one in everything, huh Near?"

As the owner of the voice passed Near received a pat on his head. He looked up at the assaulter with long blonde hair, a child who would more easily pass off as a girl.

So far Near had five suspects for the poisoning of the kid, and this vicious child, Mello, unfortunately wasn't one of them. This was for the simple fact that he wasn't suave enough to pull off such a discreet poisoning. The others were the other children walking with them (for they were the only children he could watch) and an unknown to account for the improbability of an outsider getting into the house. The strange man in the Wammy house, whom Near expected most of all to be L, and Quillsh were both free of his suspicion.

Near climbed back to his feet and cleaned himself from the dirt and leaves on his legs.

"Oh man!" The brown headed child next to Mello cried, "I left my Gameboy!"

"Oh, learn to deal Matt." Mello responded, "I'm sure we're not taking that long of a flight."

"Still…it will make it go faster. I'm going back to get it. If I run, I'm sure I can catch up."

For just a second both Matt and Mello exchanged a conspirators glance worthy of Brutus and the senators themselves.

"Mello…" Near began "You have another way into the house, don't you?"

"What!! I mean, how could you even assume that!?" Mello cried.

Although he had no proof exactly, Near _knew_. Mello had another way into the house; it was his intuition based on that look given to Matt and the way Mello moved back in defense that gave him that unshakeable impression.

_How can you be so sure? Where's your evidence? Without evidence there is no right conclusion._ It was the voice of the strange candy addicted man that invaded his thoughts then like a parent slowly guiding a child when he strayed.

_The reaction is proof enough._

"Wammy," Near called out, and the old man turned, "I think you might need to see something."

#---

A few minutes later the number of suspects that Near had for the poisoning had suddenly dropped to only one.

"I mean, come on!" Mello cried, waving his arms like someone trying to guide a plane in for a landing. Only the plane Mello was trying to land on them had already crashed and burned and his words fell on mute ears, "You can't possibly expect someone to find this? I mean, I doubt any outsider could find this tunnel, not even by blind luck!"

Near and the others stood in front of an opening in the hillside that was a smaller replica of how he imagined a hole in a mountain would look for a train to pass through.

He spoke, "Then how did you find it Mello?"

The child put his hands down and grumbled silently to himself.

Wammy pulled out his radio, "Brandon, I think you need to know something."

Only static was returned in reply.

"Brandon?"

"We have to go back." Near announced, his hand once again unconsciously twirling that one strand of blonde hair, "It's strange no one has confronted us yet out here in the woods. Considering that I believe we were being used as some form of trump card that we were taken on this trip and since the one using us as leverage would not just simply walk away he must be preoccupied with something else. Since the only thing to be preoccupied with is in the house itself we must go back and help L."

_L? Trump card? Where's your proof?_ It was the voice of that strange man again (L) acting like the overbearing parent who would nitpick at anything in his child less than perfection.

……

_You're getting spoiled because you are always right. You have to learn how to gather evidence to support and guide intuition, not go on intuition alone._

……

"No, we have to get to the airport." Wammy said, but too unsurely, too unbalanced.

Near was a warrior at verbal combat, so seizing the opening he pounced in the moment of indecision.

"That was your plan wasn't it? Plan's change, we have to go back and help…Brandon."

So, with that, the group entered into the tunnels and headed back towards the orphanage.

#---

L stood in the doorway of the backroom of the Wammy house facing out towards the kitchen. He sucked patiently on a Popsicle, waiting.

"Hello." He said to the group as they entered into the kitchen doorway, every one of them creeping cautiously.

That blonde haired kid stared in wide eyed wonderment, "You're alright?"

L shrugged, "I'd have preferred it if you didn't return. But both I and Joseph agreed that you would after I didn't answer the radio."

The blonde haired kid's hand stopped twirling with his hair. His eyes were a bit wider than normal, like a deer's caught in a headlight.

"Who's Joseph?" Wammy asked.

The light in the back room flicked on and a man caught in the land between the dark and the light stood silhouetted in the door frame behind L. He held an object to the back of L's head.

"_What, forgotten me already?"_

_#---_

("Is he ending the story prematurely?" You're asking yourself.

Well, just trust me.)


	8. L is for L

The young man named Joseph who had held the devastating device known as a gun to the back of L's head had buzzed black hair, a clean face, and cool steel eyes that L figured ran nearly to the core of his heart.

They had moved from the kitchen to the back room, both the man and L sitting down face to face with Watari and the children standing behind L, easy targets for a close ranged pistol.

"If you're going to kill us now…you might as well do it." L said.

One of the children tried to shout but was silenced before he had the chance to opinionate his objection. It was probably Watari who had silenced him, he mused.

"Aren't you clever." Joseph said, tapping the barrel of his gun to his head, "You're trying to get inside my head, aren't you? See what makes me tick. See if I'm really as composed as I make myself out to be."

L drew his legs tighter into himself. He was sitting not but a few feet from the man; a man that L could just not quite figure out. Joseph was a puzzle that was missing a few pieces and although you could get a pretty good idea of the picture that the puzzle should be it was impossible to wholly understand the finer details of it.

"But, you know what? I guess you're right," Joseph raised his gun, "Maybe I should kill you right now. Shall we count down? 3…2…1…"

"Bang." L finished, "You're waiting on something. So what is it?"

"A signal."

"So how many members are in your group?"

The words called down a deep silence from the heaven. The question was a sneaky one. By getting a conversation going in one direction L could, like a boxer of words, feign a hook and then come in with the real question he wanted to know that acted as the straight to knock his opponent out.

"Group? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Earlier you said 'don't you remember me', did you expect someone to?"

"Aren't you funny. If I didn't fall for it the first time, what makes you think I'll fall for it the second time?"

"Just curious. Do you mind if I grab some M&M's?"

It was all one giant boxing game. L had to keep the jabs coming, keep the questions rolling; keep the man's mind occupied. Although he wasn't sure how well the man could multi-task and think, L was positive that he could think faster and better.

"Go ahead."

He grabbed the bag by the edges, holding it like he held most things, and shoved a handful of the candy morsels into his mouth, "Want some?" He held the large yellow bag out to the man.

For just a brief moment the steel eyes Joseph melted and twisted, revealing something underneath that was very interesting to L. If he had to explain it he would equal it to an explosion in space…there for a brief moment with a fierce ferocity and then just gone the next. Yellow teeth had shown that same look when he went in for his final charge, it was the face he had burned into his memory.

Joseph swatted the bag away, sending the multi-colored candy scattering to the floor.

"I don't think any of your tricks are going to work."

L shrugged, "I just enjoy candy better when other people enjoy it with me."

Joseph chuckled, "For someone trying to act so smart you are pretty dumb for allowing me to get you at gun point."

"Oh…I let you in."

L let out his final combo right there…although it wouldn't be he who would land the knock out punch.

"You say everything so matter of factly. Now why would you let me in?"

"Information."

"That failed miserably for you."

"Not really. I found out that the Aconite killer is working with a group, and that you are not him."

"How?"

"Profiling."

"I hope that knowledge makes your passing easier. Because that little FBI agent friend of yours who you're counting on coming to save you is probably a little held up at the moment."

The radio crackled to life then and Joseph gave L a wave with the gun. It was a good bye wave, and how fitting it was.

"We found the car in front of a hangar." The perplexed voice said through the static, "The plane's still inside but no one is in it. We'll keep looking."

Joseph sat the radio calmly aside with a jerk. The ferocity inside him was finally seeping through. Oh well, L had already seen enough of the anger to seal the man's fate.

"It was a good last gambit. But whatever the outcome of the message was, the message was the signal itself. So sorry."

Although the good bye sentence was said no bullet rang out in the room. The man only stared at his own hand. His mouth shot up and down like a fish out of water, trying to spit some words out.

Joseph couldn't talk now, though, and he never would be able too again.

"Your veins are probably too clogged with blood to pump anymore."

A strange groan escaped from the man's lips, it sounded like a wounded animal raging at the beast that just killed it…or a sore loser from a boxing match that was howling at the unfairness of his loss.

"You're probably trying to squeeze the trigger right now. But once Aconite takes hold there's no blood flow, so you can't move…but just in case…" L reached up and turned the safety on the gun.

Blood trickled down the sides of Joseph's mouth and began to escape through his eyes like tears. Those tears traveled down his cheeks and dripped to the floor to mingle with the scarlet blood that was running down his legs. Then his body went limp, a puppet cut off from the strings that gave it life.

KO.

#---

Near sat in the kitchen stool, twirling his hair, staring at the wall in silent contemplation of the man he now almost knew was L. This man had just explained to them everything that went down, explaining details that even Near was fuzzy on.

'L' had coated the M&M bag with Aconite right after they had left on their hike. He said that there was a high percentage chance that someone would come in after him based on some profile he had constructed of the Wolf's Bane killer.

"_That's retarded!" _Mello had cried, starting off the twenty questions with the man, "_What if the killer took you into a different room!?"_

"_Don't touch the ice cream container in the kitchen."_ Was his reply.

In fact, he had placed such assorted sweets in all rooms adjacent to the kitchen.

"_What if he didn't touch the bag?" _Near asked.

"_I figured I could make him do it."_

"_What were your plans if no one came into the house?"_

"_What's it matter now?"_

"_How did you know how fast Aconite acted, and that it worked on skin?"_

"_I tested it."_

"_On what?"_

The phone 'L' was carrying chirped and he picked it up and placed it to his ear. Twenty questions had ended.

Now the body was cleaned up, the deadly sweets (more so than usual) were disposed of and the house was cleaned. The man suspected as L had disappeared from site for now, probably already back to work on this new case of his.

Yes, this new case of his, Near thought, for he is L. Now he was absolutely positive…he just had to find the hard evidence that would get this man to admit it to him.

#----

L sat on the back porch of the Wammy house, thumb caught in his mouth, his eyes staring absently at the horizon after Naomi failed to answer the phone. So Joseph wasn't lying about her.

He had killed one of the Aconite killer's pawns, and alluded the others, but the Wolf's Bane murderer had captured one of his pieces too, the queen even. It was the only piece that could move freely across the entire board without restriction.

The phone rang. He didn't even have to pick it up to know who was calling.

It was time for his opponent's counter-strike.

(L gives me a headache. Usually when writing something you can go straight through, but L makes me think, write…think again, write some more, think some more, write again.)


	9. Act Two: Prologue

(Well, I had actually written a longer passage about L's plan with the M&M's. In it L just coated the middle so he could hold it up by the edges without touching the poison. It had to be taken out, though, because it disrupted the flow of the story.

I always thought Near was a brat. The wonder of story telling is the different ways of being able to interpret it. I hope it doesn't put you off.

Thanks to all of the reviewers for all your kind words. I'm glad you liked that chapter because it was a pain to write; for a little bit I thought I had written myself into a hole, but L bailed me out.)

#---

L picked up the phone, and just like the first time they spoke he couldn't shake the thought from his mind that the distorted voice on the other end of the line was actually enjoying this.

"_I pass."_

"Are you too scared to make a move Wolf's Bane killer?"

"_All my_ _pieces are in place. With one wrong move from you, they strike. Careful L…you're playing a few pieces short. Just one mistake and…checkmate."_

The detective realized that, and he realized that chances already indicated that the orphanage was surrounded by men ready to attack at the sound of a radio signal.

L sat in silence for a moment. The sun was setting behind a line of trees, painting the sky a color he didn't take the time to notice. All his attention was focused inward, leaving perception unneeded.

"_What's wrong?" _The Killer chuckled_, "Am I too big of a fish for you to catch?"_

No, L knew that wasn't it. In fact, he had just thought of the perfect bate, "Let's meet."

"_What?" _ The killer sounded amused, not scared or put off; it was another reaction to add to the man's mental profile.

"Oh, so the Aconite killer doesn't want to meet me. On to a different pla-"

A loud, jovial laugh erupted through the static.

L knew then he had lured in his fish; the bait was just too juicy to resist.

#--

(Enter Act Two)


	10. L is for Logic

(Time is spreading thin on me. I'm obsessed with this story, though, so don't worry…if you were, anyway. Once again, kind words are appreciated, always. L may be above ego stroking, but I suppose I'm not…Although, here's to hoping I get there.)

#---

In the perpetual darkness that clogged the tunnels like trouble clouded the situation within the Wammy house a single light strode through, oblivious to the fact it was where it didn't belong.

Below this light was a child's face. He had mopped brown air and green eyes that scanned the lines of the book that the light sat on with jubilance possessed only of the unaware.

Beneath his feet bugs and insects scrambled out of his way. His foot caught a spider, squishing the eight legged bug out of the existence of this world. The child walked on unaware.

Finally he breached the walls of the Wammy house. He reached up and plucked the light from the top cover of the book. Still he continued to read.

He passed a kid on his way up the steps. The child shouted something out but he didn't bother to stop and understand it. He made his way to the back room, traversing the kitchen without bothering the occupants.

He entered into the back room, sat down in the darkness, secured his light once more to the top of his book, and began to drift away from reality.

#----

The Aconite killer had been growing more aggressive over the few days after L and he had established the day of the meeting. Five or more were dying in a day, perhaps as a signal, or perhaps because the killer just enjoyed it.

Killers, to be more precise. The area of the killing had spread out, jumping from city to city. The Aconite killer(s) had dropped all pretense of working alone.

With so many people dying it was logical to assume somewhere along the line someone would mess up, a clue would be left. But there was nothing. Not even an agenda appeared through the killers choices of victims. Businessmen, blue collar workers, mothers of children…

But never the children themselves. That was the one inconsistency, for there was one child who had died.

As he went over these things in his head a brown headed boy entered into the room and sat down with a lighted book in his hand.

L called out to him three times before he found himself snatching the book out of the boy's hands.

The boy didn't even move. He sat as still as a statue, his hands cupped as if a book was still within them, his eyes starring at empty space. Finally he blinked twice, looked up at L, and narrowed his eyes like a snake.

"Give that back!" He hissed.

Maybe the child was a snake, L thought, and he had just traversed onto his territory.

Only this snake was a part of a pack, a pack whom had not returned to the den, "Once you tell me where Roger and the other children are."

The child's eyes glazed over then. His body once more returned to that statue like, blink less state. After a few moments he blinked twice, narrowed his eyes again, and shrugged. "Beats me, now give me back my book!"

L held the book above the child's head, swinging it between two fingers, "You know, the more you act like you want something someone has, the more that someone is going to try to extract things from you before you get it back. You should bite back on your emotion." He said, but even more than saying that to the kid, he felt like he was talking to himself.

"Yeah, well, you should bite back on being a cold hearted jerk who steals the reading rooms and the reading materials of children."

A cold hearted jerk? Well, L supposed he would have to be in order to meet with the Aconite killer. If he really did snag Roger and the other kids that would make this meeting more difficult.

In the end could he refuse to help those to whom he felt some form of emotion for? It was for the sake of many more people, true, but it was people to whom he felt nothing personal for at all.

But emotions were useless. The choice was easy and logical.

_The child stood in the middle of an anarchic storm, and he was the eye_.

…

_A black haired man lay on his desk, blood trickling down the side of his mouth. _

"The mind is a funny thing, bringing up such useless and illogical images now." He mused to himself.

"Hey! Don't phase out on me. Give me back my book!"

L flipped to the front cover of the book, opened it and then read the name on the inside, "Take it, Ender."

Ender fumbled with the book as L tossed it to him. After a few moments he secured it under one arm and looked up at L, his face saturated with emotion, "It's from a book." He said in defense before opening up the thing. Instantly all emotion from his face was drained like a plug had been pulled, drying up the turbulent waters in his heart.

L watched the boy as he strode from the room, then turned back to the terminal and the death trail that had been left for him.


	11. L is for Loser

(Thanks for the actuall ages of Mello and Near Red. They are both younger and older than I thought.

Commas seem to be the bane of my writing world. They kind of have a mind of their own and jump in when they feel like it. I'll have to watch that.)

#---

The sunlight pierced the pupils of the man wearing the brown cloak like a dagger as he strode down the side walk; it sliced his eyes every time he looked up.

So, naturally, he looked down as he walked.

He stepped in between two black poles acting as a makeshift gate and walked into a tropical oasis in the middle of a technologically advanced but necessarily unaesthetic culture.

L looked up; sheltered from the sun by the shade of the hundreds of trees which hugged the path as if in protecting it from the greedy eyes of the outside world.

Flowers were in bloom everywhere in an assortment of colors. It was a modern day garden of Eden.

This single path oasis had a black bench sitting in the direct middle. On the opposite side of this bench walked an old man, his white hair hanging limp on his head. His body was wrinkled like a walking prune and he took small, short steps as he made his way.

He looked harmless. It was the eyes, though, that gave him away. As if the age and skin was nothing but a suit the eyes shown through with a blazing clarity unaffected by time; a witty knife not dulled by the years.

L slowed his pace up. Both he and the old man sat down at the same time.

"What do you want from me?" L asked.

"Straight to the point," The old man's voice was sandy and scratchy, "Are you sure you don't want to shoot the breeze a little? After all, this may be your last chance to chat."

A particularly curious red flower was hanging over the benches back. L turned to look at it and plucked it. He eyed it with a front of wonder, "It won't be."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you want something besides my death."

"Maybe I just want to see you suffer."

L reached up and plucked one of the petals off of the flower. He let it go. In this place, free of the wind, the petal floated unhindered to the walk way.

"Then go ahead and tell your men to invade the building. Kill every last person in there. Then kill the one's you have in your possession." He plucked another petal.

The old man watched this petal fall to the ground. As he eyed L the detective couldn't help but get the feeling that he was being scrutinized; being looked over and compared to some standard the man held in his head, "What is it? Is the place set to explode? Are the very floors and walls coated with aconite?"

_Pluck._ The petal fell to the sidewalk again.

"Or is it…" The old man continued, now seeming to talk more to himself than to L, "That you are really that cold hearted of a bastard?"

"None of the above actually: I'm not a big fan of explosives, you didn't give me enough aconite to actually coat the walls and floors, and if I was intent upon having everyone dead I would have simply had you arrested right here and let the consequences follow."

"Then why did you show up?"

"Because you wanted me to."

"Why would I want that?"

"Because this is personal."

L picked the last petal off of the flower. It floated to the ground on top of its fallen brethren. A gentle breeze then came and took all the pieces of the flower away on some unknown journey.

Shifting his eyes from the spot where the petals were to the man, he saw in those pitch black pupils that the man was laughing inwardly. A smile slowly crept its way onto the "gentleman's" face and made it look like one gigantic pink wrinkled rag.

"You're father would have been proud."

Father? His heart tried to leap in his chest but L forced it down. A game-that was all this was to this man. In a game of logic and reason emotions lose.

But if this man did actually know his father then all the pieces of the puzzle slipped perfectly into place.

"I see it in your eyes. You have the whole picture now, don't you Lawliette?"

L let the center of the flower he had been holding to be caught by the wind and carried away, down the path and out of this lush oasis.

#---

"What do you already know?" The old man asked.

This was the part where things became serious. Each man had already set up their final pieces. This was the part where they each set into motion their final gambits.

L was short a few pieces. Yet he also knew one rule in this game that the old man had seemed to neglect to notice.

"I know that the Aconite killer is not the Aconite killer at all, but the Aconite killers. I used to think that they were under the leadership of one man, you. That's not true. They are under no leadership at all. The order of the killings are too chaotic, too random for it to be by one man. I think it is done by many people operating under the principles of a loose guideline ordained by one group."

"Impressive." The old man said.

"I also think now that you aren't a welcomed part of the group. You killed like you were a part of the group but you killed for your own agenda; to get me to come and investigate the case. I think now that you did know my father, but it wasn't on a friendly basis. You knew him…and you killed him. Now you, for some reason, want to test me. Maybe it's some unfinished business or an anti-climatic conclusion to your bout with my father; it doesn't matter. I think you just want to see if you can beat me in a game."

"Oh," The old man chuckled. It was a hideous, wheezing laugh that sounded like two torn and decomposing air bags deflating, "I already have won our game."

"Then finish it."

The old man reached into his black pocket and pulled out a small, square black device. It was one of those old time push the button on the side radios. He turned it on and static saturated the air.

"Are you sure you don't want to prolong this?" The old man asked L.

"For what purpose? The pieces are already set up."

The old man clicked the radio and spoke a few short orders into it. Then he looked back up at L, "Check mate."

The radio cackled into the air, taunting the loser of this chess match. It continued to cackle-cackle and cackle until the old man couldn't take it anymore. He spoke into the static once more, "Is it finished?"

This time a voice replied, "Mr. Vengo, if you would do us a favor and please refrain from using our secure line for your little games we would be most appreciative."

His black eyes widened in a curious horror. He looked up at L who only looked back, his eyes wider, curious as to the actions a prideful man would take in defeat.

"What do you mean my own little games? We were in this together! We all had our part to play! Mine was to kill the detective."

"Yes," The voice responded. He sounded young, too young to be involved in this sort of serious matter, "Kill. You toyed with him for too long. Because of you we had to move our training grounds and find a different place to stash the Aconite. You cost us too much money and time for our patience to last."

"B-but!" The old man stammered; the enjoyment and relish now absent. All pridefully selfish men who were a slave to their emotions, L now supposed, were the same when their petty notions of revenge or success are taken away from them. They are childish, unable to accept defeat, "At this rate, h-he'll win! He'll catch us all and all of it will be for nothing!"

"Will he? He will try. But he already knows that if he continues in his pursuit of us we will kill him. We have already spoken on such matters."

The old man looked up at L for confirmation. The detective nodded.

Recognition donned in his eyes like a man who had finally witnessed the final curtain of what lay behind reality itself, "You went to them! You went to them and had me cut off! H-how!?"

Like a train building up steam this selfish man who had lost his way was slowly "thinking he could" straight into insanity.

"You know what? I don't care. Kill him!"

His head snapped to the bushes behind the bench. L followed his line of slight. No one came out.

"God! Did they take everything!? Do I have no support left!?"

A gun did protrude from the bushes then like a prayer answered. Only this time, it seemed, God had a twisted sense of humor for the gun did not point at L, but at the old man instead.

L pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and bent his head low as he stood up.

"Misora, please be kind and take this gentleman to your headquarters."

Naomi Misora stepped out from behind the cover of the trees and flowers.

"That's not possible. You were detained. This game was supposed to be between me and L!"

L turned his back to walk away.

"Wait! L! How did you do it!?"

"Simple," The detective responded, "I moved my pawn to the other side of the board."

Then he heard the rattle of hand cuffs and the reading of the rights.

This game was over. Check mate.

#--

It was later, at the orphanage, when all the children were back and both Watari and Roger were making sure things were in order that L was talking to Naomi over the phone.

"Thank you for the help." He began.

"No problem. Once you got me released it was the least I could do. But how did you do it?"

L shoved a handful of multi-colored chocolate coated candies into his mouth. He munched on them in contentment, for sweets always gained flavor after victory.

"I bribed a few men that the killer had stationed outside of my headquarters to allow me to talk to their boss's. Once I figured out that the Aconite killer was working within a group, and the group wasn't going to benefit from one man trying to toy with a detective, I felt there was a high percentage chance that the men stationed outside of my headquarters were not the Aconite killer's men but the group's men. So money was more than enough to cause a betrayal."

"Out of curiosity, why did they release me to begin with?"

"I'm not sure exactly. I can only assume they wanted the same thing as I did at that time: the capture of the one posing as the Aconite killer."

Normally L would not bother himself with such trivial question and answers. Once something was done it was finished. This time, though, he relished in the victory, but more than just that trivial emotional matter, he still required Miss Misora's assistance.

"What will you do now, L?"

"What you will hopefully do. Go after and stop the group behind the Aconite killings. Please, Miss Misora, if you would lend me your assistance again interrogate Mr. Vengo and find out all the information you can."

After they hung up the phone L called for Watari.

As he sat there waiting for the man his mind wondered briefly if he could have sacrificed those captured if it allowed him to obtain justice against one who would kill many more.

Then he pushed such thoughts away.

It was night-a time to work, not to dream.

And for L night time never ended.

(Thank you for reading that chapter. It seemed to write itself mostly, I just had to tweak it. I'm a little surprised that the aconite killer was a renegade, but as I wrote it it just seemed to fit.)


	12. L is for Leaving

Victory was a word that L had become accustomed to all to often

Victory was a word that L had become accustomed to all to often. Any lesser man would be dragged down by his own ego under such circumstances.

L wouldn't allow himself the luxury of being lulled into complacency, though. It was always on to the next case, as he was searching for now.

Yes, the next case.

The sun had just set in the distance and the twilight was coming in, the purple tentacles twisting their way across a pink sky like an octopus in the water on a child's canvas.

The wind picked up and caressed L's face, his long hair he mused standing still in stubbornness as the wind tried to blow it behind him. Watari walked out behind him,

"So I suppose you are leaving now?"

"I actually don't want to." L replied, "But yes. It seems the FBI has taken care of all the dirty work for us."

"It's almost anti-climatic, don't you think?"

L sighed, he was, for once, actually looking forward to the challenge catching this group of aconite killers would present, "Yes, but reality is unlike fiction. Often times there is no climax, no final epic battle between good and evil."

L dove his hands into his pocket and pulled out a piece of candy and popped it into his mouth. He crunched down on it.

"Ow."

"What, sir?"

"I think I just chipped a tooth."

_**The End.**_


End file.
